Remorse
by TeresaJane
Summary: Lisbon lets Jane escape after he kills Red John. Later, she wonders if it was the right thing to do: for him, and for herself. Former oneshot, now multi-chapter. Jello.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this plot bunny randomly showed up. I was bored, and this was what happened. It wasn't supposed to be so angsty, I apologize. Please don't hurt me! I believe that this is the shortest author's note I've ever written. Yay me! Thanks to lizzybeth for her amazing ninja/beta skills! xoxo Me:) (This A/N keeps getting longer...) Also, this used to be a oneshot, but it's not now, thanks to my new friend lysjelonken ! You're welcome, Zanny!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it. Imagine that.**

**Warnings: Character death and fluff (the sad kind)**

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Agent Teresa Lisbon knows she should wait before entering the warehouse. She is the first responder; she had taken all the shortcuts she knows of to get to the scene first. She's supposed to go in with reinforcements, not alone. Never alone. It might get her killed.

But she also knows that the only man still alive in that building won't shoot her. And she won't shoot him. She will arrest him, however. He has broken the law, and it is her job to make sure he doesn't do it again. Lisbon doesn't want to do that to him, but she will. No matter what he says or does to change her mind, Patrick Jane is going to prison for murder.

She moves quickly to the open door of the abandoned warehouse, silently turning off the safety on her gun. She expects to have to search for him, but sees him when she has taken only three steps into the building. Her eyes move to the body on the floor to see if the man is still breathing.

He isn't. She clicks the safety off and holsters her gun. As she approaches him, she can hear him crying softly. Her heart breaks for him. His sobs grow louder. As she's about to put her hand on his shoulder, he screams, falling to his knees beside the body of his enemy. Lisbon takes a step back, startled, her hand instinctively going for her gun. Is he dangerous now? Will he hurt her?

Jane turns his bloodshot blue eyes on her, staring at her, as if wondering why she is there. "Teresa?" he asks, his voice hoarse. He reaches for her, a child looking to his mother for comfort after waking from a nightmare. When he realizes she isn't getting any closer, he pulls his hand back. Then he stands up and faces her. "Where are the others?"

"They'll be here soon," Lisbon answers. "I wanted to get here first, to see if I could stop you." She looks at Red John's body resentfully and is silent.

"Are you going to arrest me?"

"Yes." She makes no move to cuff him. There is no need. "Jane, why?"

He moves nearer to her. "I had to," he says in a broken voice.

"No, you didn't!" she yells, her anger and hurt finally exploding. "You didn't have to do this! It didn't have to end this way!"

Suddenly, her back is against the wall. Jane's hands are on her shoulders, holding her there. "I'm sorry. Did you hear me? I'm sorry!" he hisses. "I never meant to hurt you or the team. I was only thinking of myself, I know, and I'm sorry!" Then he's kissing her roughly, his hands moving from her shoulders to her waist. She doesn't fight him; she kisses him back with everything she has, wanting to make him truly sorry.

He pulls away when sirens pierce the quiet night. "I'm sorry, Teresa," he whispers.

"Go," she tells him. "You need to leave, now."

He kisses her one last time. Then he's gone.

Lisbon sinks to the floor, sobbing. _It's over…_

When her team bursts in, she simply says, "He wasn't here." They know better than to ask questions. Later, the case is dismissed because Red John was a serial killer, and would have been sentenced to the death penalty if arrested.

Jane is gone. The only things left are his couch and the origami frog he gave Lisbon as an apology so long ago. When she returns to her office, she finds the frog and throws it away. The couch is gone the next day at her request.

A week later, there is a package for her on her desk. It's from Tahiti. She opens it to find another origami frog. Which she also throws away. Every week, though, there's another package. This lasts for about a year. Then it stops completely.

Lisbon is glad it does.

**5 Years Later**

Agent Teresa Lisbon wakes up early, as she always does. She walks downstairs to prepare her breakfast. As she enters the kitchen, she tenses. Something is wrong. She looks around to see that the front door is wide open. As she hurries to close it, she notices something else.

A man. There's a man in her home. She gasps, and he turns. Smiling brilliantly, he approaches her. "Hello," he murmurs, hugging her. She is frozen, unable to do anything. The man kisses her forehead. He takes her hand and places something in it. He whispers, "Keep this one."

Then he's gone. Again.

Lisbon, blinking through her tears, holds up what he has given her.

A tiny origami frog. _Of course_, she thinks, clutching it to her chest. _Of course he would._ She smiles sadly. She wants another chance, but she knows that, like the frog, she had just received her last.

**TBC**

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**A/N: Is writing angst my strong point? I'm not sure. Feel free to tell me what you think! Thanks! (Never mind; this is my shortest author's note. Woot!)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So. Here I am. Updating a supposed-to-be oneshot. ... Aaanyway, this is the second chapter, as you can see. Good news: There will be more chapters, too, because for some reason I love you people :D Yes, you. Bad news: This will probably be all you get for awhile. As I've complained about before, my teachers have no respect for me. (Therefore, I have no respect for them. Yay, detention! :D Just kidding, my mom would murder me with no regard for the CBI team's schedule :P) I will do my best, but until I am blessed with a study hall, it's gonna be slow going for who knows how long. Thanks to Simonisthecuttestmentalist, Lizzybeth93, lysjelonken, Jisbon4ever, sandra, and my lovely cousin Rachael (whom I forced to read the first chapter) for their awesome reviews that made me smile:) And I need smiles, because my kitten just died. Not a happy time.**

**Oi, I've lapsed back into writing long author's notes!  
Thank you Lizzybeth93 for being an amazing beta and sticking with me for so long! (You deserve a cookie, but I can't bake, so... sorry :D)  
****This chappie is for lysjelonken, because she so kindly asked for a second chapter. You're welcome, Zanny! xoxo  
****And Crystal, I hope this answers your question! ;)**

**Disclaimer: Looks like I'll have another blue Christmas without the rights to The Mentalist. Or Elvis Presley lyrics. Now I'm depressed again.**

**Warnings: Slight language (just in, like, one spot!)**

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Lisbon was going to find him.

She had toyed with the idea ever since he'd left, but now she was certain: she was going after him.

Another year had passed since that day, making it a total of six years since he kissed her, and just one year after he had returned with his gift for her. The origami frog sat on her bedside table at home, beside a framed picture of him that she had managed to find. In the photo, he was happy, the way Lisbon had always thought she would want to remember him.

Now, it was different. Now she hoped, wherever he was, Jane was _not_ happy. He had deserted the team, deserted _her_, almost without a second thought. He didn't deserve to be happy. Not without Lisbon, not if she wasn't happy.

Which she wasn't. The Serious Crimes Unit's closed-case rate had plummeted since he left. Her brother, Tommy, was on probation for possession of a narcotic—again. She was depressed every morning when she arrived at the CBI, and left at night even more so. Her evenings seemed shorter, because there was no Jane-paperwork. This should have meant she got more sleep, but she didn't; she got less now than she had before.

Lisbon didn't understand why Jane hadn't come back and stayed. The Red John case was closed. There were no charges against him. He was considered a hero for the victims' families.

But he was still gone.

He didn't call, write, or try to contact her or the rest of the team some other, unconventional, _Jane_ way.

She hated him for that. But she missed him.

_absence makes the heart grow fonder_

A piece of her had fled with him and hadn't returned.

_fondness makes the absence longer_

The hole that piece left ached more every time she walked past the empty space where his couch used to be; when she glanced at the picture of him or the origami frog; and when she saw a curly-haired blonde man on the street. Once, before the frog incident, she even saw a baby blue Citroën DS21 pull into the CBI parking lot. She'd leapt from her chair, sending it against the wall with a tremendous crash (which attracted the attention of everyone in the hall and in the bullpen), and sprinted to the window to get a better look. But the little car only circled the lot once and pulled out again. The license plate number wasn't even close to his.

She had cried herself to sleep that night.

"I miss you," she whispered.

"Lisbon?" Cho's voice brought her back to the present. "Are you okay?"

She could tell he was truly concerned. So she lied. "Yeah, I'm all right."

"You were thinking about him." It wasn't a question.

She nodded wordlessly. Cho fell silent and turned his ever-stony gaze back to the road. There was a report of a murder in Malibu, near Jane's old house. It was still empty; it hadn't been put on the market. Lisbon had the feeling it would never be sold.

She tried not to of the location of the crime scene as they drove on. She knew she should care more, but she couldn't bring herself to do something. Her condition, not only emotional, but physical as well, was deteriorating quickly. She ate one meal a day and showered only when she had the energy. Some nights she didn't sleep at all. She didn't know why she was letting Jane's absence tear her apart...

...which was another lie. It was because of the kiss. The kiss had changed everything. It was why, when she finally fell asleep, she would wake up less than an hour later, choking on tears and his name. It meant that Jane cared for her—maybe even loved her. She used to deny that she had feelings for him before he left; now she didn't even bother.

She knew she loved him.

Suddenly, she heard herself say, "I'm going to find him."

Cho started and looked at her.

"I'm going to find him," she repeated. "And I'm going to bring him back."

l^l^l^l^l

When they finally arrived at the scene, Lisbon was in her own world, imagining the _what ifs_. What if Jane had stayed? What if she hadn't thrown away the first frog? What if he hadn't come back to give her another?

What if he hadn't killed Red John in the first place?

Cho placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "We're here, Lisbon."

Lisbon blinked and looked at him: her second-in-command; her partner; her friend. "Okay." She wanted to smile at him, to reassure him, but she couldn't. Not until everything got better.

They got out of the car and saw Rigsby and Van Pelt pull up in the other Suburban. Together they made their way to the area that was cordoned off with the familiar yellow police tape, their party lacking only a blonde, bright-eyed, three-piece-suit-clad consultant. Lisbon thought she saw him, making his way through the growing crowd. She stopped and strained her eyes, trying to catch another glimpse. But he–or whoever it had been–was gone. It couldn't have been him, anyway.

When she turned back to her team, she saw that they had stopped, too. They were looking at her, pity clear in their expressions. They knew it wouldn't be long before she cracked. She had to find him, soon.

"Are you Agent Lisbon?" A uniformed man that Lisbon presumed to be a local rookie walked up to Cho. He gestured at her silently. The rookie glanced at Lisbon questioningly, but approached her all the same. "Agent, I'm Officer Barron. Sheriff Hutchinson wants to see you immediately. He says it's important."

_Because he's not the one I was looking for_, Lisbon thought sarcastically. "Take me to him."

"He's over there," the rookie said, pointing to a tall, middle-aged man who was talking to another officer.

"Officer, when someone higher-ranked than you gives you an order, you don't half-ass it," Lisbon said. She knew she was being rude, but she just didn't care anymore. "Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." Without another word, the officer led Lisbon and her team to Sheriff Hutchinson. "Sheriff, Agent Lisbon is here."

"Thank you, Barron," the sheriff said quickly. He seemed distressed. After Barron had left, he asked, "Agent, may I speak to you privately?"

"Something wrong, Sheriff?"

"No, everything's fine." His eyes gave him away, but Lisbon let it go.

After she had given orders to her team, she gestured to a quieter area a few feet away. "After you, Sir."

When they were alone, Sheriff Hutchinson seemed to calm down a bit. "First, you have to promise that you don't become upset."

"Sheriff, I don't have time for games, I'm here to solve a murder—"

"That's just it, Agent. There wasn't a murder." He was being completely serious.

"Then why was the CBI called?" Lisbon demanded.

"Because..." Hutchinson heaved a tired sigh. "Just come with me. I'll explain as quickly as I can." He began walking away from her, toward the yellow tape. Reluctantly, Lisbon followed him. What the hell was going on?

"So what is it, Sheriff?" she asked.

"We called you because we were told to. You'll understand more when you see..."

"When I see what?"

"When you see what was left for you," he replied uncomfortably. "It's a note, addressed to you. It said to call the CBI and get your team, specifically, to come here. There is no body. No one has been hurt or killed."

"Who's it from?" Lisbon had to struggle to keep her voice level.

"It's not signed. It said not to check for fingerprints, either. We were waiting for you, to see what you wanted."

She nearly interrupted him as she blurted, "I want to read it."

"All right." The sheriff spoke into his radio, waited for his answer, and nodded at her. "Come on." She followed him more closely this time. _This is it. He's finally trying to talk to me again,_ she thought excitedly. Her body was humming with energy now.

When they had ducked under the tape, Sheriff Hutchinson led her to a small portable table. There were pictures and pieces of paper fluttering gently in the breeze, held down by thumbtacks. The locals hadn't worried about damaging evidence; this wasn't evidence, anyway. The sheriff detached the note from the table and handed it to Lisbon. She had to restrain herself from tearing it out of his hands.

The first paragraph consisted of typed directions intended for the police. She skimmed over those quickly. Then she reached the important part, written in handwriting that she would remember anywhere, and began reading.

_Dear Teresa,_

_I know you probably hate me. I would hate me, too. But please don't give up on me. And don't give up on yourself. You don't deserve the hell I know I've put you through. Just forget about me, and all the pain will go away, I promise.  
Then again...  
I don't want you to forget about me. I've been doing some soul-searching lately, and I've realized something. Actually, I've realized a few things, all of which I can't tell you now.  
So the only alternative is to find me, isn't it? Unless you truly hate me, which I doubt you do. Some part of you has to miss me, at least I hope.  
I miss you. I wish you would smile more. I wish I wasn't the reason you're not happy now. I'm so sorry, Teresa, please understand that.  
And if I were you, I would find me. If that makes any sense, I'll be seeing you soon._

She looked up, blinking to keep the tears at bay. "Is this all there was?" she asked Hutchinson.

"Yes. But it was folded up when we found it."

Lisbon froze. "F-Folded up how?"

"I don't know. I do know that we have pictures of it, if you want to see them."

"Yes, I do."

He looked at the table. She followed his gaze and found herself looking at a large photo. The sun was shining off of it, creating a glare. Sheriff Hutchinson was much taller than Lisbon, so he could probably see what was in the picture. Carefully, she untacked it and lifted it until the glare faded.

She wasn't surprised at what she saw. "Thank you, Sheriff. I'll be taking this note with me, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, Agent. You take care."

"I will," Lisbon replied. "Thank you."

They shook hands. Hutchinson smiled at her softly. Shocking herself, Lisbon smiled back. Then she turned and left, nearly giddy with joy.

When she found her team, they were full of questions.

"Is it true that there isn't a body?" Rigsby asked.

"Yes," she answered.

"Why were you gone so long?" Van Pelt enquired.

"Sorry Van Pelt, Sheriff Hutchinson had to show me something."

"What do you have there?" Cho pointed at the creased paper in her hand.

"It's... it's a note for me. From Jane." More questions were fired at her, but she just said, "I have to go," and headed to the Suburban. She was going to find Jane, and she was going to bring him back.

And she was leaving immediately.

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**A/N: Maybe I should just title this Origami Frogs, because they're just popping up everywhere. (Random fact: I got Officer Barron's and Sheriff Hutchinson's names off of this website that lists the 1000 Most Common Surnames. It's actually quite helpful when you're looking for names.) Was Jane's note okay? great? crap? Tell me, please! Also, this is actually a really long chapter. Yeah, don't get used to that, at least for this fic. :)**

**The following quote is my absolute favorite:**

_**Today you are You; that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you. ~ Dr. Seuss**_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Another chapter in the oneshot:) Took a while, I know: Christmas was a beast. Thank you to Lizzybeth93 for betaing awesomely (I hope this is okay...) and thank you to oana07, Jisbon4ever, klcarr892, and 24Mentalistlover for reviewing Chapter 2 and making me smile :) On to the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I own the Dark Chocolate M&Ms in the bowl sitting beside me, and that's about it.**

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Until she got home, Lisbon thought she had known exactly what she was going to do. Now, she sat on the floor in her living room, feeling utterly lost. She had no idea where to start looking for Jane. She had tried to think of places he would go, but she couldn't come up with any. The second frog he'd sent her came from Tahiti, she remembered, but she couldn't actually imagine him there. He certainly hadn't been relaxing on a beach, so what was he doing on an island somewhere in the Pacific Ocean?

_Hiding_, her mind supplied. That was all well and good, but he had to know that he'd been cleared. If he was still in Tahiti, then what was he hiding from now?

Her inner voice was silent.

And what if he wasn't there? Lisbon doubted he had returned to California following the first or even second year after he left. Maybe he'd changed his name; he was still surprisingly well-known from his days as a psychic. Or maybe he hadn't, and if people asked him what it was, he lied, as he so often did.

"Where are you?" she asked no one in particular. She looked around the room, taking in the cluttered corners, dusty walls, and sports memorabilia.

Suddenly, she wasn't in her living room anymore. She was in a memory, in what looked like…

…_a motel room bed, wearing one of her many Chicago Bears shirts, in honor of her favorite team from where she grew up. This one is a little big on her; it's sliding off her shoulder. She doesn't bother to fix it. She's too tired, and just wants to sleep… but then, why is she awake?_

"_Lisbon!" a faint voice says. Jane. Of course. It can only be him in the middle of the night. "Lisbon, get dressed. I have an excellent plan in motion."_

_She yawns hugely, stretching her arms over her head. Slowly, she sits up, yawning again._

"_Lisbon!" _

_She stumbles to the sliding door, pushing the curtain aside before opening it. "What is it?" she grumbles. _

_She feels his curious gaze sweep over her, taking in the sweatshirt that barely covered what it should have. "Uh," he said, his mind obviously still processing her attire, "get dressed. I have an excellent plan in motion."_

_She groans, closes the door, and staggers back to the bed. Oh, how she longs to fall onto it and give in to sleep. But Jane won't let her. Muttering angrily, she tugs off the Bears shirt and bends over her suitcase to dig through it for clothes._

When she had actually been living this memory, Lisbon hadn't noticed the strange sense that she was being watched, probably because it was there and gone in almost a single second. While reliving it, however,

_she can feel eyes on her, if only for a moment._

_Is Jane watching her dress?_

Then she is back in her living room, blushing. He couldn't have been watching her. That was just… no, he hadn't been _watching_ her. He had been making sure she was getting ready and not asleep again. That was it.

But that sensation of him looking at her wasn't what she was supposed to notice. Somehow, she knew that there was something important about that memory. She couldn't figure out what it was.

Another memory takes over her. This time,

_she is still in her living room, though now she's standing up… wait, she's… dancing. To the Spice Girls. In her Chicago Bears jersey. It's part of another of Jane's outrageous plans, though right now it's just getting set up. He's upstairs, waiting. It's odd, having him in her home. She has to act as though he isn't for the plan to work. She also has to pretend that she's drunk. In her hand, she is holding her Glock; on the coffee table, assorted pill and alcohol bottles sit in disarray._

_She's supposed to look crazy. Not hard, considering everything that's happened to her in her life…_

What wasn't she seeing? It was right there in front of her, Lisbon knew it, yet she didn't understand what it was.

And then she did.

_Jane's crazy plans equal Jane._

_Chicago Bears clothing equals Chicago._

_Jane is in Chicago._

He had to be. Because if he wasn't, Lisbon was just as lost as he was. At first, she just sat there, awed that she finally had a place to start. Then she sprang to her feet and raced upstairs to pack her bags. When those were downstairs by the door, she called Hightower and informed her that she needed some time off. She didn't say why, and her boss didn't ask. Lisbon suspected that Hightower knew what she was doing, and if she disapproved, she was keeping quiet.

After she had gotten her luggage into her car, she went back inside to make sure she had everything she needed. Just as she was closing the door, she thought of something. Well, two things, really. She hurried back upstairs to get them.

When she got into her car, she placed the frog and Jane's picture on the passenger seat. As the Mustang roared to life, she glanced at the picture. His smiling face gazed back at her. She felt the corners of her mouth twitch into a small smile of her own for the second time that day. _I guess things are really getting better_, Lisbon thought.

She started driving: she knew the way to Chicago by heart, even though she hardly had time to go back home anymore. She found the interstate and sped up. _Jane wouldn't have any reason to complain about my slow driving…_

Lisbon was calmer when she was driving, because she had to focus on the road, and that left no time for thinking about anything else. Sometimes an image of Jane or a memory would sneak up and blindside her. She just pushed it away, storing them all in the same place, locking them down until it was safe to remember them.

When she passed a sign that read, "Leaving Sacramento," she sped up, gaining hope. She could be in Chicago in less than two days. When she got there, the problem would be locating him, but as he'd be living there for a while now, there had to be a record of him somewhere. Her biggest issue would be convincing him to return to Sacramento with her. Would he refuse? Would he come willingly? Did he even love her anymore?

Of course he did. If Lisbon loved him, Jane still loved her.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself as she drove on, leaving the garish sunset behind her.

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**A/N: Yay? Nay? Cheer? Upchuck? Meh, whatever you think, why don't you tell me? Thanks, guys!**

**P.S. I was listening to _Your Love Is A Song_ by Switchfoot while writing this... needless to say, there may be songs in future chapters. I say "future" because I haven't even started Chapter 4... heh heh... *runs***

**_True remorse is never just a regret over consequence; it is a regret over motive. ~ Mignon McLaughlin_**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: HERE I AM! It's been a while, I know. But I had a few life-destroying days... Gramma died, me and my BFF fought, and my flash drive almost got a virus on it (seriously, flash drive = my life). This is sort of an upsetting chapter. Keep in mind that it isn't the last! I hate this weather, it's freezing here! ...That was random... Thanks to my awesomely amazing beta Lizzybeth93, this chapter isn't a complete bleep-up. xoxo to you!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it. (See why I don't write simple disclaimers? They're too... simple!)**

**Warning: Spoiler from 2x03: Red Badge**

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**Six Weeks Later**

Lisbon hit the snooze button on the second-hand alarm clock for the third time and rolled over. She didn't want to leave Chicago yet. Just one more day, it was all she needed; she would find Jane today. But not even that thought could rouse her. She had told herself the same thing every morning when she woke up. It'd been forty-two days since she arrived in the city, and she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him.

No one else had either, it seemed. She had asked almost every person she could find if they had spotted him in the store; given him a place to stay; passed him on the street. She had her badge and gun so that she could pass for a local cop as long as no one looked too closely. If people asked questions, she told them it was an ongoing investigation so she couldn't give out information.

The picture of him that she'd brought along was growing worn from over-use.

She was no closer to finding him now than she had been when she started her journey.

When the alarm blared again, Lisbon groaned and sat up, rubbing her eyes. She wasn't as lethargic anymore, as she was eating (though not as much as she would have liked) and exercising again. She was only tired this morning because she'd had a very late night. Inspecting the small apartment she was renting, Lisbon located the closet that housed the few clothes she owned.

Englewood was the worst part of Chicago, but it was all Lisbon could afford. She had to save her money for food, and there was barely enough for that. She tried not to think about that as she dressed for the day. There was one more place to look, much better than Englewood, and after she did her looking, she was leaving.

Maybe she'd been wrong. The memories were caused by elatedness from having found the letter, a clue.

God, she missed him so much…

Lisbon couldn't give up. She had to keep going, even if she didn't find him. At least she could say she'd tried.

She finished her hair – a simple ponytail, tied up with a piece of old string – and headed for the door. Just as she opened it, she caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye.

_Rat!_

She cursed. This place had an infinite amount of vermin, and all of them were attracted to her. She took a step toward it. "Shoo," she said, waving her arms. "Get outta here!"

The rat glared at her, its beady red eyes daring her to take another step closer. It chittered at her and continued eating the dingy carpet.

"Damn you, get the hell _out_!" she shrieked, kicking it. With a high-pitched squeak, it sailed across the room and hit the dirty wall with a sickening _crunch_. When it fell to the floor, it left a smear of red on the cracked plaster.

Lisbon gasped in horror, her handing flying to her mouth in shock. She hadn't wanted it dead; she just wanted it gone. Which it was now, technically.

She whimpered and swallowed hard. She wasn't going to cry over a rodent. Head held high, she marched outside. That was probably a mistake, considering the carcass would smell later and only attract more rats, but it already stunk and it was her last night here.

Though Lisbon had sold her watch and cell phone for money, she still had her car. Since it would be stolen in a heartbeat if she parked it here, she kept it somewhere farther away. She watched the streets around her warily, keeping a hand on her gun. So far, there hadn't been any need for it, but it was there, just in case.

Half an hour later, when she reached her car, she stopped to take a rest. A tear escaped and ran down her cheek, dropping onto the dusty exterior of the car. She had seen a man who had looked exactly like Jane on the way here, and she'd yelled his name. He turned his head, and it _was_ him. She ran to him, pushing through people, knocking a few to the ground in her haste.

When she got there, he was gone. Of course, he hadn't been there in the first place, had he? Mortified and upset, she had fled, rushing back though the already-angry crowd.

She wished she could just disappear. Just _poof!_ and there would be no more Teresa Lisbon.

No more money problems.

No more tears.

No more search for someone who refused to be found.

"Where, love?" she whispered. "Where are you?"

Riotous cries erupted somewhere behind her, and a Molotov cocktail exploded to her right. With a yelp, she hurriedly unlocked the car and got in. When she saw the group of scraggly, filthy men coming at her, she began to pray as she fumbled with the key: "God, please, don't let it end this way, please, Jesus, please…" She knew that she didn't have enough bullets for all of them, and they wouldn't be afraid of a cop anyway.

The engine roared to life. Lisbon slammed on the gas and sped past the men. One of them threw another bomb at her, missing by yards.

Finally, when she was in a much more respectable part of the city, she parked the car and started sobbing. Her fraying mind had come up with the most logical reason she hadn't found Jane: he had been killed by some gang and his body would never be found. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she choked out.

A sharp tap on the window made her jump. A man was standing there, looking very concerned. "Are you okay, miss?" he mouthed through the glass. She nodded. "You sure?"

She rolled down the window. "I'm fine," she told him, wiping away her tears. "Just… a bad day."

"I hear you," the stranger agreed.

An awkward silence fell, until Lisbon said, "Thank you."

"For what? I didn't do anything special."

"You got me to stop crying, and I need to focus."

"Oh," the man said. "You're welcome, then."

"I have to go."

"Okay. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for."

Lisbon blinked in surprise; how had he known? "So do I," she replied. "Goodbye."

He waved at her and walked away. Lisbon smiled at his retreating form. During her stay here, she had forgotten that there _were_ good people in the world.

Jane wasn't dead; he was out there somewhere, waiting for her to find him. She _was_ going to find him.

She pulled away from the curb and kept driving.

0o0o0o0o0

Winnetka was a suburb in northern Chicago, on the shore of Lake Michigan. It was so much cleaner and prettier than Englewood. The wind wasn't too bad, and Lisbon was grateful, as she hadn't brought along a jacket. She drove through the streets carefully, trying to decide what house to go to first.

She wished she had more money. She supposed she could sell more of her clothes – she hadn't packed all of them – but she didn't want to. The things hanging in the tiny closet back in the apartment had been things Jane complimented her on, and she would never part with them.

If she had more money, she could eat more. She was so hungry now. When she had stopped eating before, the hunger pangs had been terrible at first. Gradually they ceased, and she didn't notice it anymore. But since she had eaten something, it was as though she had lost even more weight. She could see her ribs clearly and her cheekbones were more prominent.

Jane probably wouldn't even recognize her.

Finally, Lisbon saw a house that looked respectable enough. She pulled up in front of it and got out of the car, wobbling a bit. Steadying herself against the car, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Another breath in, and out.

It reminded her of the time Jane "read her mind" to figure out which mug the twenty was under. If she concentrated hard enough, she could remember…

"_Jane," she said, "we have a case. You think I have time for games?" She can't even see; he made her close her eyes._

"_Life is a game," he replied smoothly, "you have plenty of time for that. Shh. Shh! I'm gonna read your thoughts. I want you to take a deep breath in."_

_She breathed in, growing tired of this already._

"_And out." She exhaled. "Will you concentrate?" She nodded wearily. "Name as many twentieth-century presidents as you can. Now."_

_Presidents? Really? "Uh, Coolidge, Wilson, Roosevelt, um, Eisenhower, Truman, Kennedy, LBJ," she said proudly._

"_Good," he praised. "Take another breath in."_

_Oi. She breathed in. If this was supposed to calm her—_

"_And out."_

—_it wasn't. She exhaled showily, trying to convey that she wasn't having fun._

"_Concentrate on which mug it is under. I am listening to your thoughts." Sure he was. She thought about the second mug from the right. "Don't shout. I can hear you." Well, excuse me. "Open your eyes."_

_She looked at Jane expectantly. He grinned at her and lifted the mug, producing the twenty-dollar bill._

"_Well, you did have a twenty-five percent shot," she told him._

"_We could do it all day and I would get it every time," he said._

_She snatched the bill from him. "Give me that. How'd you do it?"_

"_You told me, Lisbon. Our minds are in sync."_

_Our minds are in sync…_

Could he hear her now? If she thought about her location hard enough, would he find her? She doubted it. She didn't believe that he had read her mind in the first place.

After shaking her head to clear it, Lisbon walked to the door of the house, noting that it had a well-kept lawn and garden with flowers in the window. A woman's presence was obvious. As she rang the doorbell, Lisbon wondered if this was the last house she would have to visit, the last person she would have to question.

The door opened, revealing a man in his early thirties. "Can I help you?" he asked politely.

Lisbon showed him her badge and explained the situation. When she held up the picture, the man said he hadn't seen Jane, but that his wife worked in a busier part of the city; maybe she had seen him. He brought his wife, a very pretty woman holding a sleeping toddler, to the door. Lisbon went through the routine once more, and was disappointed again.

As she returned to her car, however, she was more than just disappointed. The man had gazed at his wife with such love in his eyes; Lisbon had felt awkward standing on their doorstep. It made her feel more alone than ever. She was sure Jane had never looked at her like that, and if he did, she hadn't noticed. If she found him… _When_ she found him, she wanted the look in his eyes to make her melt.

After visiting some other houses on the block, she decided that food was necessary if she was going to make it through the day. She stopped at some restaurant – it looked cheap but smelled wonderful – and devoured an entire pizza, ignoring the stares she received as a result. Satisfied, she went back to her car, yawning. She was so tired all of a sudden; stress and the fact that she had just eaten probably contributed to that. Maybe she would take just a little nap, so that she would have more energy later. She curled up in the backseat and closed her eyes.

When she woke up and looked at the dashboard clock, she was shocked to discover that three hours had passed.

Lisbon sighed. She had to find him soon; this was killing her.

She went to the next house quickly, trying to hurry. These houses were her last hope; someone had to have seen him. He had to have been in some part of the city, right? So why wasn't she finding him? He wanted her to find him, didn't he?

If Jane was purposely hiding from her, she was still stubbornly seeking him out.

"Please let me find you soon," she whispered. "I can't take much more of this."

0o0o0o0

She gave up one hour and fourteen minutes later.

Sitting on the edge of a fountain in some park, she stared into space, wind and hot tears stinging her eyes. "Why?" she asked. It was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? Lisbon began to sob. Passers-by looked at her sympathetically, but none stopped to ask what was wrong. Why would they? They had their own lives to worry about. She'd had hers until it all came crashing down on her.

Now she had nothing left to live for.

She dried her eyes and stood up, pulling her coat tighter around her. As she made her way to her car, memories rushed at her: the arguments; the jokes; the secrets; the hug; the emeralds; even the pony…

She needed him so badly, but he was gone

Lisbon got in her car and put the key in the ignition. Before she turned it, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the picture. Her lower lip trembled as her finger traced the outline of his face. She whispered his name, hoping that by some miracle he would knock on the window and smile at her.

Nothing happened.

She put the picture back and took a shaky breath. When she tried to start the car, the engine wouldn't turn. "Come on," she growled. "Come on…" She was rewarded with a smooth purr.

With that, she drove away from the park. What she would do when she got home, she hadn't figured out yet.

But Lisbon certainly wasn't going to forget Patrick Jane.

* * *

**A/N: So. What did you think? Please tell me! I'm going to go Google something involving a different plot bunny and then finish up the Super Bowl. Go whatever team wins! (I only watch for the commercials.)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Another chapter courtesy of my deluded mind, which, by the way, is coming up with excuses good enough to explain my absence. One word: HOMEWORK. I think that about sums it up, especially since it was math. Ooh, look, a pun! (This is me when I put too much sugar in my tea.) Anyhoo, this is **_**not**_** the last chapter. I think. Thanks to Lizzybeth93 for being the most wonderful beta EVER! Hope this makes up for my writing deficiency…**

**Disclaimer: All I own is my flash drive, a.k.a. my best friend. This means not only do I not own The Mentalist, I also do not own the songs that I borrowed snippets of or anything else, for you people who need details.**

* * *

As Lisbon drove, she let her mind wander. She knew it was a bad idea, but at this point, she didn't care. She didn't even feel like she was connected with her body anymore: she was just floating through space without a purpose.

_I failed._ The thought was a smack in the face. After what Lisbon had gone through for weeks, this was all she had to show for her efforts, and it hurt. That hurt was so deep it would never heal.

The unfairness of the whole thing was astounding to her. She couldn't grasp the realness of it, even though she knew it was there and wasn't going away.

Lisbon wouldn't allow herself to cry. It showed weakness, and despite having cried more in the last six weeks than she could ever remember, she wasn't going to let her weaknesses through again. She was going back to Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon, the tough-as-nails cop.

With a sigh, she turned on the radio. Another bad idea.

"…_better as memory than as your man,"_ Kenny Chesney sang soulfully through the static. Lisbon's breath caught in her throat and she changed the station.

"…_draw me a map that leads me back to you…,"_ Dierks Bentley crooned. She spun the dial again. There had to be a station that wouldn't remind her of… him.

"…_I know there's no life after you…"_

"…_this ain't goodbye; this is just where love goes…"_

"…_I'd much rather be somewhere with you…"_

"…_come back to me…"_

"…_every time I hear your name…"_

Snarling angrily, Lisbon shut the radio off. After a second, she turned it on again. Lowering the volume all the way, she went to a random station and vowed to listen to whatever song was on. She couldn't let music – something that had always comforted her – have this effect on her. Taking a deep breath, she spun the volume up.

Nothing happened. Suddenly, the car lurched forward, making Lisbon glad she'd had enough sense to wear her seatbelt. The engine sputtered but kept going, though not as strongly as before.

Lisbon cursed. She searched the streets around her and was relieved to see a mechanic shop ahead. Urging the Mustang along, she pulled into the parking lot. Just as she did, the engine died, much to her annoyance.

Up close, the shop looked deserted, but the sound of heavy machinery inside gave away the presence of life. Lisbon walked to the door of what looked like an office and knocked. No one answered, so she tried to open the door. It was locked. The large garage door was open, however, and she walked into the shop. Her ears were assaulted by the screeching of some failing machine.

A string of profanity was uttered from somewhere behind the machine, and a tall, good-looking young man stepped into view. When he noticed Lisbon, he smiled as if nothing had happened. "Hello, miss," he said. "Can I help you?"

"My car just broke down," Lisbon explained. "I was lucky enough to make it here before it stopped. It's in your parking lot."

"I'll take a look at it, then." The man wiped his hands on a greasy cloth and made his way toward her.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "I really appreciate it, Mr. ..." Not knowing the man's name, Lisbon trailed off.

"Wilder. Lucius Wilder." Lisbon's eyes must have shown her surprise, because he went on, "I know. Strange name for a mechanic."

Lisbon forced down her urge to blush at being caught. "It's a lovely name," she said truthfully.

He grinned. "Thanks. Now, let's see your car."

Lisbon led him to the Mustang. When Lucius caught sight of it, he let out a low whistle. "She's a beauty," he told her. "Do you have any idea what the problem might be?"

"None whatsoever," Lisbon said. "My brother is the mechanically-inclined one." She had to maintain her mask of normalcy; else he would ask questions that she wouldn't be willing to answer.

Lucius laughed. "I see. I'll get my truck. Any other day, I'd have my assistant do it, but he's busy with repairs today, unfortunately."

"An assistant? I didn't see anyone else," Lisbon commented.

"He tends to keep to himself. Understandable, given his background. He's actually older than I am." Lucius looked her over. "Maybe about your age."

"You're saying I'm old?"

He looked aghast. "No, no, not at all."

"I'm just kidding. You were saying about getting the truck?"

"Oh, right." Lucius grinned sheepishly. "You can sit in my office if you'd like. I'll show you where it is."

"Okay."

He led her back to the garage door and pointed at a door near the back of the garage. "Right there," Lucius said. "The door's a little tricky, so you might have to fight with it a little."

Lisbon thanked him and made her way to the office. As she passed the machines, she studied them. They were so complex, much like her life at that moment. Oh, what she wouldn't give to be anywhere but Podunk, Illinois, in the shop of an oddly-named mechanic with an invisible assistant. She wanted to be at home, in her apartment, in _his_ arms. The wave of longing that crashed over her sent her dashing for the door of the office so that no one could witness her emotions break free of their confines.

She had to battle the door, as Lucius had warned, but finally Lisbon was alone. "Breathe," she whispered to herself. "Breathe, Teresa. You're fine. You're alright." When she was calm – as calm as her current situation would allow – she sank into a worn chair in front of a cluttered desk.

The desk was the only item in the room that was messy. Everything else was immaculately tidy. Well, almost everything. The three-drawer filing cabinet beside the desk had a cluster of pictures on top of it. The glass covering the photos had a thin layer of dust over it. Lisbon examined each picture carefully: a pretty, blonde woman with blue eyes; a tiny, newborn baby swaddled in a pink blanket; a younger Lucius with a shining silver Porsche; an older Lucius with a group of friends adorned with party hats; and so many more. It seemed that this man's life was perfect except for failing machinery, with nothing else to worry about: a lovely wife, a beautiful daughter, a nice car, and a close group of friends.

And here he was, repairing other people's problems.

Lisbon ran her finger along the frame of a small, crude Valentine. A misspelled "I Love You Uncle Lu" was scrawled in a toddler's handwriting. It made Lisbon smile slightly. To be loved... it was a lot to ask for.

"I see you're as bad as my assistant," Lucius said from the doorway. Startled, Lisbon looked up at him.

"You have lots of good memories," she commented. "More than I do."

"Good memories? Yeah, I suppose they are." Lucius walked to the filing cabinet and motioned at the first picture Lisbon had seen, the one of the blonde woman. "That was my sister. She died three years ago serving with the Marines." He moved to the baby girl. "That's my friend Michael's daughter. She has leukemia." On to the photo of him and the Porsche. "I totaled that car a month after this picture was taken. Spent three weeks in the hospital. Still have the scar." He pulled down the collar of his shirt a bit so that Lisbon could see the puckered line there. He lifted the picture of his friends, picking each of them out as he spoke. "Michael – the one with the little girl – is in Iraq. Meg is in a home for abused wives because her husband tried to kill her. Tim was diagnosed with cancer a year ago. And Rose..." He sighed, lightly touching the last woman's smiling face. "Rose killed herself. It's been two months now." Lucius replaced the picture. "These are all 'good memories,' as you said, but they're here to remind me that life isn't perfect and that something bad can happen when you least expect it."

"I know what you mean," Lisbon said in a small voice. "I'm sorry. For everything."

"Me too." He stared at the pictures for a minute, then said, "Back to your car. It's the transmission. It's gonna cost you."

Unable to stop herself, Lisbon put her head in her hands and groaned. She didn't have any money with her, and she'd maxed out her credit cards. Maybe her insurance would cover it... but probably not, since she had a few unpaid bills that were probably rotting in her mailbox at home. This was great. Just great.

"Do you need to make some calls? To arrange things?" Lucius asked.

"I don't have anyone to call," she answered, her voice monotonous. _I'm alone. I was looking for someone I never found and now I'm completely alone._

Seeing her despairing expression, Lucius shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "Well... I... uh..."

"It's okay. It's not your fault." Lisbon looked at him. "You have to make a living. I understand." Then she had an idea: _Cho_. Cho knew what was going on. He knew why she had left. He had money, and Lisbon knew that she would be able to pay him back. "Actually, can I use your phone? I... lost mine."

"Certainly." He gestured to the phone. "Free of charge," he added with a small smile.

Lisbon smiled back. "Funny," she said, picking up the phone. She dialed Cho's number as Lucius gave her some privacy. Cho didn't answer, so she left him a voicemail explaining what had happened, leaving the number of the garage. It was the first time since she'd left that Lisbon had contacted him in any way. She hoped he would understand.

When she hung up, Lucius popped back in. "I was just thinking... if you wanted to learn more about cars and how they work, I could show you if you'd like."

"Sure. Why are you being so nice to me?" Lisbon asked, standing up and following him.

"You look like someone who needs it," he told her simply.

She had to agree to that.

They started by going over the parts of the car, and Lisbon discovered that she knew more than she thought. It was actually kind of fun, and Lucius was a good sport about it. Sure, he'd laugh when she didn't know something, but so would Lisbon. He went solo on the more complicated things, but allowed her to help him with everything else.

"Well," Lucius said after they were done, "it's fixed."

Lisbon looked at the old clock hanging on the wall. "In only two hours."

"I suppose that since you helped with the repair..." he started slowly.

Lisbon raised an eyebrow. "Go on," she prompted.

"...I could cut the price."

She couldn't contain herself. "Yes!" she shouted. "Thank you so much!" She hugged Lucius.

"You're welcome," he replied with a laugh once she'd let him go. "Does this count as a good memory?"

"What are you talking about?" Lisbon asked, confused.

"You said I had more good memories than you, like you were implying that you didn't have very many. Is this a good memory?"

"It will be once I'm done living it," Lisbon vowed. "Really, I have a lot of good memories. But..."

"But what?"

"They just don't seem to matter to me anymore. It's hard to explain."

"Has your friend called back yet?" When she shook her head, Lucius went on. "Then you have time to figure out how to explain. Trust me; you'll feel a lot better."

Lisbon took a deep breath, and everything just seemed to pour out of her. She went back to the beginning, leaving nothing out, wanting someone to understand. When she finished, she was surprised to find that she hadn't shed a single tear.

"Do you still love him?" Lucius asked.

"Every second," she whispered.

"Then you'll find him. I'm sure of it." He paused for a second. "So you live in Sacramento?"

"Yes."

"My assistant is from Sacramento. I wonder if you've ever met him. His name is—"

Just then, the phone in the office rang. "Oh, that's probably my friend. Can I check?"

"Go ahead." As Lisbon stood up, Lucius saw something fall out of her pocket. She was already hurrying to the phone and hadn't noticed. "Miss Lisbon, hang on!" He picked up the small photo and turned it over. His blood ran cold. "Miss Lisbon!" he yelled at the tops of his lungs.

She stopped in her tracks and faced him. Seeing him examining the picture, Lisbon walked back to him. "Are you alright?"

"Is this him?" Lucius asked her, handing her the picture.

"Yes, it is. Why? What's wrong?"

"Just... wait a minute, please." Without waiting for Lisbon's response, Lucius made his way to a battered telephone in the corner of the garage. He picked it up and a hit a button. Lisbon couldn't hear what he was saying, but the conversation didn't last long. When he hung up, Lucius returned to her.

"What's going on?" Lisbon demanded.

"Just watch that door right over there." He pointed to the very back of the garage. The door was very nondescript; it just looked like... well, a _door_.

"Why?"

"You'll see."

Sure enough, the door opened a second later. "What is it, Lu? I'm busy—" When he saw Lisbon, his eyes widened. He dropped the rag he was cleaning his hands with. It floated gracefully to the floor.

The world fell away. Lisbon could only see the figure staring back at her from across the room. Her legs were as weak as a newborn foal's. She could hardly breathe. She didn't want to breathe – a puff of air could dissipate the moment and she would wake up to find out it was all a dream.

She heard her name whispered, as if the speaker was unsure of himself. Lisbon took a wobbly step forward, then another. Then she was sprinting toward him. She collided with her target, sending him into the wall. Nevertheless, she felt him embrace her as tightly as he could.

"I knew you would find me," his voice murmured.

"Why didn't you come back?" she asked against his chest.

"I was scared. I was scared that you hated me."

"I don't hate you." Lisbon chanced a look up at him. He hadn't changed at all. Blonde hair, blue eyes, bright smile. This was undoubtedly Patrick Jane. "I love you." She kissed him then, incapable of waiting any longer, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Lisbon had found him. They were together and nothing could pull them apart again. She knew in her heart that he would stay with her for the rest of her life.

"Patrick," she said, "can we go home now?"

"Yes. _You_, my dear, need food and sleep first."

"And I want to hear it," Lisbon put in.

"Hear what?"

"Your story. What happened while you were... gone."

"That's for another time. I'll tell you when you're healthy again."

"I'm fine," she protested, pouting.

"Ah, there she is," Jane said, smiling at her warmly. "My Teresa."

"I was always here. Now you are, too. And it had better stay that way, am I clear?"

He chuckled. "Crystal," he said, kissing her again.

* * *

**A/N: Yays! Please tell me what you thought, please, please, **_**please**_**! I would appreciate it muchly. I'm watching the DVR version of the Royal Wedding... just amazing.**


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